Living With Two Armored Friends
by Kedern
Summary: True, I bailed on them. But seriously, what good do I bring them?
1. Resolutions

**AN: English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes.**

**I own nothing but the rambling**

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><p>Oh boy he was mad.<p>

I mean, it is quite normal. After all, when we were let on the big secret, Rhodey and I practically signed up to be ready twenty-four/seven for Team Iron Man. Although, I don't remember having signed a real contract, as in, a big stack of paper where would be written black on white our dedication to helping our metallic-armored friend in saving the city from crime. And that we probably would have made read by Rhodey's mom as she is, well, a lawyer. But at the same time, that would have kinda let out the big secret, wouldn't it? OK, moving on.

They never needed me that much before. Tony is the one wearing the armor, making upgrades on it and building up softwares, Rhodey assists him, is the voice in the mask when they're in mission, is occasionally wearing and armor too and all. Me? I'm the annoying girl who clings to them to be sure I belong somewhere. Well, it's not entirely true: I can sometimes be helpful in hacking my dad's computer (who hasn't suspected a thing yet). So little. Hence the feeling of uselessness. Heck, even Whitney helps, being this Madame Masque and all, while she's supposed to be the bad guy. Or girl. Whatever.

The thing is, I'm feeling more and more like the third wheel there, that's probably why I accepted that date with Happy. No Iron Man involved, just a boy and a girl going to the movies. And apparently, not the thing to do, considering Tony's reaction. I mean, to a stranger, it would have meant just normal bantering, but Tony (just like Rhodey to say the truth), are not used to throwing that kind of jab, like, ever. Seriously, first the facial expression, then the disbelief, and finally _'prepare to pay for yourself!'_. Where the heck did that come from? He was definitely mad. Because I bailed on them.

And what's not worse, they actually needed someone else for once, while I was blissfully (or not) on a date to watch a movie I didn't like in the first place. I bailed on them while they needed me ASAP, they almost died because of it (drama queen much?). Weirdly enough, they didn't seem to mind much (apart from the fifty dollars I _borrowed_ from Tony, but I swear it was only after his comment!). Unbelievable.

Why did I go to a date in the first place? Ah, yes, to show Tony that, if he can have a date, well so could I. The second? To be with someone who doesn't mind whether or not I'm able to handle things on my own. Truth, I do know that neither Rhodey nor Tony mind it much, but I'm tired to be the one that they have to save, like some sort of damsel in distress. Hello! We're in the twenty-first century! Things have to change! But not matter how many times I tell myself that, I always end up being the one who needs rescuing. I have taken (loooong ago) some lessons in self-defense, but I need more of them obviously. I already called a dojo and signed up for a ten-week training. I'm also working on refining my hacking skills, that could come in handy. Last but not least, I'm trying to (read: _work in progress_) babble less and synthesize the intel I have in order to deliver it efficiently and quickly. Oh boy, that's gonna take long.

Let it be known I'm not deluding myself: being a kick-ass computer wizard is a dream, yeah, but it's not like I'm gonna get there anytime soon. But here she comes: a sobered up version of Patricia, no babbling, no clinging, one hundred efficient. Almost. I mean, it's easy to say that now, since I'm alone thinking all of this, but I have soon to meet with Tony and Rhodey (they've left me, like twenty messages between the both of them). Steeling myself not to ramble now.

Who am I kidding? I'm never gonna hold out…


	2. Step One: Fighting Skills

**Disclaimer: Same as last time. Let's say that it's pretty sure I won't own anything until the end of the story.  
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><p>The call (<em>calls<em>) was for an explanation on one of the numerous armor updates. Yikes. I mean, I do understand how he can be proud of showing us his latest invention, but really, he could do it in English!

And now both of them are looking at me weirdly. I didn't say that out loud, did I?

"What do you think about it, Pepper?" Tony asked, apparently wanting another opinion aside Rhodey's, while he probably knows that Rhodey's far more cleverer than I to understand half of what he just explained. (Note to self : add _'get advanced lessons in mechanics to be able to understand Starkian' _to the list)

And here guys, believe me, I almost lost it. You know, I told you I wanted fewer ramble and babble, and more efficiency? Well, I was just about to give him a long lecture about safety protocols and whatnot, about the new device (what I understood of it at least) and a whole lot of other things of big importance (to me) but probably not. And guess what?

I DIDN'T!

I'm so proud (of me). OK, sure, that means that you are new the target of my unending ramblings, but all is good for Team Iron Man, isn't it? Sorry…

Instead, I just go with a moderate praise while checking for updates in the F.B.I., C.I.A. – well you get the drift – databases. No sound. I turn around to see the boys, again with the weird looks.

"Problem?"

Gotcha. They shake their head (makes me think about dogs when they are wet) and resume working on the armor. So far, so good.

Hum. No updates. Better get on the second part of my plan. Self-defense or how-not-to-react-like-a-damsel-in-distress-if-a-big-villain-decides-to-kidnap-me-or-worse. What a mouthful.

"Where are you going?"

Wow, I never saw how much of a control freak Tony could be. I mean, of course, I knew he liked to know where things were going, especially with the whole Iron Man/Stane/Stark International thing, but now that I think about it, he always tries to know where I go, for what purpose and so on (he never does that with Rhodey: they live together!).

So now, three solutions: I could tell him that it's none of his business, but it's probably the sure way for him to get intrigued and find out ; I could lie to him efficiently (but my lies usually deal with neighboring dogs eating my homework, none of my teachers believe me anymore) ; or I could tell him the truth. Oh, I can totally see that coming.

_~~Begin truth scenario~~_

_Me (totally stressed by their reaction): Well, you see, I thought that, maybe, you know, in the future, it would be nice if, I mean, to help you not being all the time rescuing me, not that I-_

_Tony (exasperated by the length of my explanation): Pepper!_

_Me: I am taking fighting lessons._

_Silence to take all of it in. Then laughter from the boys. As in, can't stop laughing, you're hilarious._

_~~End truth scenario~~_

Hum. Let's stick with a lie.

"I have a French project to finish, so I need to go to the library, well… to finish it."

Smooth. No much hesitation, or wringing of hands (much).

"You take French lessons, now?"

Damn him.

"_Bien sûr. Pour qui tu me prends, une menteuse?_"*

And I thank my mother's side of the family that doesn't want to learn English (too difficult for them) when they are visiting. Has someone ever told them that multiple exceptions to grammar rules and exceptions to these exceptions do not make a language _easy_?

Apparently, I must be convincing. Tony seems to look for confirmation to Rhodey, who shrugs (he knows not to dig deeper, fortunately).

"Alright then. Er…good research."

Did I say I was researching? Oh, yes. Project + library = research. Right.

I take leave (after believing that one of them will call me out on my lie with every step I take) then rush of the temple.

I feel like a fugitive! If my heart's beating so hard just by lying to them about one little thing, how will it be once I complete all my steps?

Better not think about it right now.

Deep breath. Destination: the dojo.

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><p>I'm dead.<p>

I don't mean literally of course, but it surely feels like it. How the heck did I manage to enroll in an advanced training by the way?

The lesson was awful. I get decent grades in gym, but this is nothing – I tell you _nothing_ – like any kind of self defense thingy I've ever attended to before. It was pure hell.

First, we got an hour – a whole hour! – of warm ups, with probably more chin-ups, sit-ups and push-ups I've ever done _in my whole life_! Then, we went on the mats with a partner, and mine was twice as big as I was! A freaking Norse god with all the muscles everywhere! While he was easily throwing me here and there on the mat, I haven't been able to push him just once. When I tried, I hurt myself!

Fortunately, he was nice enough to understand I was not really _advanced_ and tried to teach me one or two things. Which worked. I think.

Result: I'm sore, I can barely move, and I'm bruised all over. I think I'll have to learn how to use concealer ASAP…

Step one: a disaster… Definitely not completed.

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><p><strong><em>*"Of course! Who do you think I am, a liar?"<em>**


	3. Step Two: Hacking Wizard

**AN: As said/written before, I own nothing but the rambling. And now the story. That means that I don't own _Handy Manny_ (or _Manny et ses outils_) either (but it sure is funny to switch between the French and the English version on Disney Channel…pure linguistic curiosity on my part of course).**

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><p>I had to wake up an hour before my usual waking time (thankfully, my dad is away on another super secret F.B.I. mission about which I won't tell you a word, because, well, it's super secret) to try and find something to hide yesterday's bruises. Right. Unfortunately, there is not much at home to help: the only make-up stock we have is the one we use for Carnival… While hiding is not a problem for the body (long-sleeved T-shirts, here I come!), it's a bit of an issue when it comes for the face – the Norse god has got one hell of a right-hook, and it was an accident! – and I have quite an obvious purple mark on the left side of my jaw. I apparently made quite a decent job, as no one is staring at me on my way to my locker – well, no more than usual. But I forgot about a little something.<p>

"What's that mark on your face?"

While I try to play it cool, as if I didn't just jump to the roof when Tony's face replaced my locker's door as I shut it (stop sneaking on me damn it!), my mind is going a hundred miles per hour trying to find a suitable lie (have I told you I cannot lie?). Satisfied with my make-up job, I didn't think important to find an explanation in case someone saw through it. Once again, stupid Pepper!

OK, take a deep breath, and whatever the circumstances, do not stutter!

"Well, you see, er…"

What did I say about stuttering?

By now, Rhodey has completed our triangular group, and I suddenly feel…trapped.

"What's going on?"

Oblivious, Rhodey? Or super observer Tony?

"I was just asking Pepper about that mark on her jaw."

Ow. I don't like that tone. It's his _I-won't-accept-any-nonsense-from-you-Pepper-so-you-better-spill_ tone. Tone I've never been able not to react to. I'm gonna spill! Taking benefit of the time accorded by Rhodey, as he reaches to tilt my jaw to see what exactly what the fuss is about, I feel like a mouse cornered by a lazy cat and a cheetah – I heard somewhere they were the fastest felines – and I let you guess who's who. Think Pepper, think! I could always wait until the bell rings, but doing so will further arouse Tony's curiosity.

"A door!"

What the heck? That's all I could find? 'A door'?

"A door?"

Yep, not convinced, Mr. Stark. I must say, I'm not convinced myself. For someone who talks all the time, I can't even find a satisfying lie.

"Yes, a door. My dad went grocery shopping yesterday and I had to put it away. There is a door, one of the cupboards in the kitchen, which is always stuck. When it gave away, I kinda hit myself. I'm always telling my father he should fix it, and he always tells me he will, but he never does, and so when I tried to open it, well, I hit myself with the recoil, which is totally normal, see, no harm done, except to my jaw of course but…" you're rambling, girl! "…you already know that. That's the explanation. A door."

My dad always says that you know a suspect is the culprit when he rambles. But I am Mrs. Rambles-A-Lot. Rambling is my specialty.

Satisfied with my answer, Rhodey leaves us to get to his class. Tony still stares.

"A door, then. Why did you hide it?"

Can't you just leave it alone?

"'Cause I'm a klutz, and I didn't want all people to see. See, you're the only one to ask, meaning no one else saw. That's a lot of… 'seeing', isn't it?"

The next seconds are crucial. Believe me, believe me not?

After a few hours (alright, seconds, but it really feels hours when you're scrutinized and you do know you're telling a lie), he finally nods, accepting my weird explanation.

"I could take a look at it, if you want."

"At my jaw?"

Insert big _"Uh?"_ here.

"At your door."

My door? Oh! _The_ door.

"Nah, no need, I decided I needed to do things by myself" which is not a total lie. "I've watched enough _Handy Manny_ episodes to know how to fix a simple door. It's just that my dad said he would do it and he didn't. I'll handle it."

Still suspicious look (was he born with it or what?) and he finally – finally! – lets go of the matter.

"Physics?" and he motions to our class.

Damn. I forgot my homework.

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><p>I absolutely loooove Rhodey. Platonically, I mean.<p>

The whole morning, Tony tried to make him join the 'Suspicion Club' about me, to find out what the lie was, but Rhodey dismissed each and every one of his attempts. Thank you Rhodey!

I don't know if it is because he's living more often with his mother alone than he does with both of his parents, that he developed a 'let women have their secrets' sense or simply knows not to be _over_protective ('cause Tony is!) with womankind. It's refreshing. He basically held Tony away while I was thinking about the next phase of my plan.

Hacking.

Fortunately, I know a guy (actually, I know several) who can be of some help with that. OK, he's not exactly a model of legality, but that's not my point here. This guy's already hacked into several governmental agencies databases without ever getting caught. That guy is a god – to my eyes at least.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not associating myself with a cybercriminal with mean intentions, far from it. This guy – I only know him under the pseudonym _RoyalBlueElf_, don't ask – hacks into those servers for fun. OK, that's not entirely true: he tests his skills and the resistance of major systems. He told me that once, he was so fed up with how easy it was for him to enter a branch of the D.O.D. that he directly sent a mail to them with instructions about how to strengthen their system. I'm in awe.

And I suppose you're not letting go of the pseudonym, are you?

Here the truth…

I…

No, I can't say it!

But I owe you that, after all, you're willing to hear everything I have to say so…here it is.

I'm role-playing online.

Yeah, I know, I have far better things to do, but I'm hooked! Under the name _Kazhloar_ – once again, thanks to my mother's side of the family, I'm quite fluent in Breton as well – I fight evil with my enchanted arrows in the fair kingdom of Kendahoar. I'm an elf fighting for good in a world in chaos. Don't laugh.

At least there I can be a heroine – albeit not a _super_ one – using magic and skills, no technology involved. Apart from the one letting me use the keyboard of course.

I defeat bad guys and accomplish quests with my peers to get the kingdom rid of villains. Like Tony is doing being Iron Man. In real life.

No one knows about it! It's just a way for me to… to make a difference for once, even if my world's not real. To feel like I'm doing something, instead of just standing in the way of people.

Moving on.

Now I have to find a way to convince RBE to teach me some of his skill, he who doesn't want to explain any of his tricks, fearing malevolent intentions. Piece of cake.

"À quoi penses-tu?"*

Wh-? What? Argh. Tony. He is testing me!

"À rien. Les devoirs, les cours. Les activités extrascolaires en robotique."*

He thought he could call me out on yesterday's lie? Think again, buster!

"Et ton projet en Français?"*

"Bientôt fini."*

"Hum."

How does he do it? His accent is terrible, but I know he hasn't taken French in his whole life (I'm supposed to know after all!). Oh… Here, in his hand. The translating device. Cheater!

"Quel est-"*

"Tu sais, il est très impoli de parler une langue qu'une autre personne dans l'assistance ne comprend pas" yes, Rhodey helped me this morning, I wasn't about to lose him in this conversation, keeping him away. "En plus, utiliser un traducteur automatique, c'est de la triche, ce que je ne fais pas. Contrairement à toi, j'arrive à m'intéresser à d'autres sujets que la science. Et honnêtement, entendre une personne ânonner les sons d'un appareil sans avoir pris le temps d'apprendre correctement la langue concernée ne me plaît pas franchement. Et c'est pourquoi I refuse to continue this conversation in French."* And I finish with a mental flourish, I certainly caught him out there.

"Rhodey doesn't care."

"Rhodey is way too polite to say anything, aren't you Rhodey?"

Aforementioned person seems to want to be miles away from here.

"Nononono, you don't make me take part in this. I'm merely a spectator here, no, not even, I'm… I'm not here. I didn't hear anything. Please, don't make me choose a side."

Dramatic much? C'mon buddy! You helped me this whole morning!

Argh. Tony's got the Stark smirk. Two can play that game.

"T'façon, c'que j'fais pendant mon temps libre ce sont mes affaires, et pô les tiennes."*

Gotcha! Your device won't be able to translate a speech with such a strong accent and fast elocution. I so win.

Unfortunately, the bell rings, taking away from me a well-deserved victory.

* * *

><p>This is the second night in a row I don't spend at the armory. I know the guys will suspect something – correction: Rhodey will begin to suspect something, as Tony's already oversuspicious – but as my torture training (read: fighting training) is once every three days, I really have to make time for my hacking learning. Of course, my cell's not far from me, still on, and I already checked whether tonight would be a big night for Iron Man. No big criminal out, I'm in.<p>

Convincing RoyalBlueElf – or Hewitt, of his real name – to help me hasn't been that much of a hard work. He almost instantly agreed to, and proceeded to be my guru in the ways of entering and exiting any kind of computing system. Surprisingly enough, I already knew much of that stuff, so we have been fairly quick over the basics. Apparently, when it comes to networks, I'm a natural. Hewitt gives me a task, with one example, and it's already downloaded and stored in my memory. Magical.

After a few hours, we finally call it a night, him repeatingly praising me on my fast understanding of the subject.

Oh boy, it's already 4:17AM. I won't make it through all of my classes tomorrow.

But it's so worth it.

Step two: completed.

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><p><strong><em>*"What are you thinking about?"<em>**

**_"Nothing. Homework, lessons. Extracurricular activities in robotics."_**

**_"And your French project?"_**

**_"Almost completed."_**

**_"What is-"_**

**_"You know, it's very rude to speak a language not understood by everyone in the audience."_**

**_"Moreover, using an automatic translator is cheating, which isn't what I'm doing. Unlike you, it is possible for me to get interested into something other than sciences. And honestly, I don't really like hearing a person gabbling sounds coming from a device without having taken time to properly learn the language. And that's why I refuse to continue this conversation in French."_**

**_"Anyway, what I do during my free time is my business, not yours."_**


	4. Step Three: Mechanical Engineer

**AN: I don't own either _Pensa_ by Fabrizio Moro or _Turn It Off_ by Paramore.**

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><p>Tony has been on my case the whole day. Yes, I'm tired. No, nothing happened to me. Leave me alone!<p>

"Look, I told you I just wanted to watch this movie and I didn't see the time flying, that's all."

Even _I_ am not convinced.

"What movie?"

"Geez, Tony, you're interrogating her or what?" Rhodey, you're an angel. I could kiss you, but I'm way too tired.

"I just want to-"

Alright, time to intervene. I won't let my nocturnal activities provoke conflicts.

"Tony is a control freak, you should know that by now, Rhodey." And now quick, before said control freak can say anything. "You _are_, don't try to deny it, Tony. It's part of who you are, what you're dealing with, what you're doing. If…" little glance around to see if we can be heard "…Iron Man was laid back and let everything happen because he didn't care, he wouldn't be much of a help, would he?"

OK. Rewind. How the heck did I manage a sentence like this being half-awake?

Never mind.

I'm about to go into one of my infamous rants before I catch myself and remember not to. Efficiency first!

Why are they looking at me like that?

"What?"

They must apparently know something I don't, as they look at each other before Rhodey answers.

"You're not going to say anything else?"

"Adding anything would be unnecessary, so why would I?"

Stop looking at each other as if you've finally seen the Truth!

"Guys, if you have nothing to say, I've got to get going…"

They follow me to my locker – why, why, why? – while I try my best to ignore them, listening to my mental playlist.

"You're talking Italian, now?"

Geez! Now Rhodey is on Tony's side. What are they playing at, good cop, bad cop?

"Don't know, why?"

"You're talking about…massacre."

Uh?

_'Talking'_ means I was obviously singing, or at least humming. _'Massacre'_ now, that was another story. God, I'm way too tired to think about it right now. I just want to rest a moment…

Oh! I get it!

"Yeah, massacre. Actually, it's _'massacra figli e figlie'_. Great song. You should look it up. Totally against the mafia. _Pensa_."

Did any of that make sense? Seeing their puzzled looks, I'd bet on the negative. Time for some order. Rewind and replay.

"It's a song against the mafia in Italia, _Pensa_ by Fabrizio Moro. There's nothing drastic, I won't slaughter people, guys. It's just a song."

What did I say now? They look…concerned?

"We heard you talking about jumping from a cliff this morning…"

Come again? Tony, you've stayed up all night again? Seriously? Are you delirious?

Rhodey seems to want to backtrack and erase the concern I already saw on their faces.

"But, you know, just like now, it's probably nothing…"

"It _is_ nothing, guys! You know me!"

I. Am. Livid. What are they thinking?

"Apparently not."

Excuse me? Tony, what the heck? And now, mister is stomping away without an ounce of explanation. Not fair. Rhodey is trying to get away as well, if not more quietly. Not gonna happen.

"Rhodey, what is he talking about?"

The poor lad looks torn between telling me and apparently protecting whatever secret he has with Tony. But I am lenient (ain't I always?).

"It's okay. Don't tell me."

"It's just that…" _'that'_ what, Rhodey? Spill! "Look, do you think you could make it to the armory tonight?"

"Yeah, I suppose…"

Can we be called 'liars' when we pretend something we absolutely don't feel? Because, right now, I'm pretty sure I make a good impression of nonchalance, while inside I'm screaming _'of course bloody idiot I'll come, just to understand exactly what kind of trip you two have gone on!'_.

"I'll see you there then."

Is it me, or are they fleeing me as if I was the devil? Insert mental shrug.

I'm way too tired to walk back home for a well-deserved nap. In the bus back home, I listen to my mp3 player supposed to play my notes about hacking. Instead, it plays quite a familiar tune.

_"…And the worst part is, before it gets any better we're heading for a cliff. And in the free fall, I will realize I'm better off when I hit the bottom…"_

Oh. Damn.

* * *

><p>Have you ever wished you were still in kindergarten to have those afternoon naps again? I had never thought about it before now. I just had the best two hours of sleep one can ask for. Rhodey was so right about them.<p>

Tonight is step three: learning as much about mechanics as possible, so I don't feel lost when my boys decide to talk Starkian.

Did I just think _'my'_ boys?

Geez, we're together so often that I begin to think about us as a unique entity. I'm not possessive at all, I swear. It just slipped.

…so I don't feel lost when my _friends_ decide to talk Starkian.

Much better.

I just have to grab my phone – impressive what they can do these days: take pictures, record sound, etc. – a pad, a pen… and I'm set.

Wait.

Pizza. Knowing them like I do, they'll be hungry by the time I make it there. Aaaaand, it may or may not be seen as a peace offering. For not being there those last two nights. Not that I have anything to beg forgiveness for.

But still.

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><p>I must admit I do <em>not<em> feel totally comfortable with entering the armory. That's crazy: I just went there two nights ago! But with what happened these last two days, with me concealing and Tony suspecting… Pressure is building.

Entering my code, I brace myself for what is waiting for me on the other side…

…the usual.

Rhodey is on a chair playing a video game whereas Tony is working on the armor. The only difference that can escape the untrained eye is the strength he uses to hammer…that thing. This and the obvious tension in the room. Ladies and gentlemen, Anthony Edward Stark, child genius, is _sulking_!

"Pizza!"

Two things happen: the pizza that was in my hands a second ago disappears, and Tony looks up from his work. As you could guess, Rhodey took the pizza of course, meaning the peace offering was working for one of them. Tony…seemed surprised to see me. You could see a bit of anger somewhere, but mainly, it was surprise.

"I…brought pizza."

Nice one Pepper.

"So I see."

Well, no better, Tony.

Fortunately, a beeping sound tears us for the awkward situation. Tony goes back to the armor, leaving me uncertain about the course of events.

"You're not gonna check your databases?"

Rhodey is right behind me, offering me a slice while having another half-eaten one in the other hand.

"I already did it at home."

Yeah, I wanted to focus on whatever information about mechanics you both could give me, recording you and drawing schematics hoping neither of you would catch me.

Sharp sound from Tony's work.

"Why are you here then?"

That's harsh, Tony! It's like he wrote me off from being his friend because I haven't spent that much time with them lately. That's excessive. He's really possessive, isn't he?

Now, how to have my lesson without him knowing anything about it?

"Actually, I just wanted to-"

I don't know whether I should be thankful for the interruption, given I haven't really thought about what excuse I should give him to ask for explanations on mechanics.

The warning bell drives Tony to the computer, who checks the message. Turning to Rhodey, he explains the Maggia is robbing a bank, so he'll go stop them. Don't mind me, act as if I were invisible!

Tony gone to perform his duties, I have no much more reason to stay here, particularly after Rhodey's apologetic look. I really don't want to make him uncomfortable with me over his shoulder while he directs Tony. I bid my farewell and go back home.

Step three: delayed…

* * *

><p><strong>Pepper suddenly understanding Rhodey is talking about <em>Pensa<em> is only due to her wish: she wants to rest a moment. In the chorus, Moro sings that [one] should "stay just a moment, one more moment with the head in the hands" which is the link with her previous thought.**

**_Pensa prima di sparare/Think before shooting  
>Pensa prima di dire e di giudicare prova a pensareThink before talking and judging, try to think  
>Pensa che puoi decidere tuThink that _****you_ can decide  
>Resta un attimo soltanto un attimo di piùStay just a moment, one more moment  
>Con la testa fra le maniWith your head in your hands_**

**All mistakes in translation are mine.**


	5. Break

I really have to make myself remember why I'm doing all of this. 'Cause as far as I can see, everything's gone wrong.

1. I obviously am in no way of even begin to defend myself, seeing how catastrophic was the lesson. I made a fool of myself, I'm bruised, and got a suspicious Tony on my back.

2. The hacking lessons, while worthwhile and easy, are taking much of my nighttime, getting me an even more suspicious Tony.

3. I still can't understand a word about the technology used by the armor.

4. The guys are way more advanced than I am.

5. I'm ruining my friendship with Tony.

6. I'm making Rhodey uncomfortable by putting him between us.

7. Instead of helping them, I'm hindering them even more.

8. I'm bruised (did I mention that already?), drained, tired, cranky, and feel unaccomplished.

And the worst in all of that, I can't talk about it with anyone, because I'm losing my best friends!

Life's not fair.

Seriously, I wanted to get better to help them, and it ended up way worse. I'm breaking my friendships, and feel useless. Well, at least that hasn't changed.

It's not like I'm asking to be a superheroine, I mean, Tony and Rhodey are very good at it (and truth be told, I'm very bad at comebacks), they know how to handle the bad guys, how to save people, all to make everything safe. I'm not jealous – at least, I hope I'm not – but for the first time of my life, I really felt like I belonged, and this feeling has been gone as soon as Tony and Rhodey were totally independent with managing the Iron Man phenomenon by themselves.

And it's not like I react rationally about it. Remember the "lover spat" like Gene called it.

Ah Gene. Another subject which shows how useless I am. First, I hate him (with reason, when we see the outcome), but instead of explaining soundly my opinion to the boys, I have to go and make a fool of myself, not helping either Tony or Rhodey to believe me. And the best part is probably when I join the Gene fan club, closing my eyes in front of his incoherences to better bury myself into his 'awesomeness'. Weirdly enough, that's about the time Tony was a bit miffed about everything. Probably 'cause I was impeding the organization once more.

It's like all those times I hear _"not helping Pepper"_ from either one of the guys… Me and my motor mouth…

Ah. Text from Rhodey.

_"Tony's back in one piece. Don't take his attitude too seriously, he's just worried. Night, see you tomorrow."_

He's such a doll. He's got a lot on his plate dealing with us and he still finds time to reassure me.

I thank him briefly before putting the device on my nightstand. That's also something I'm good at: boring the boys (and harassing them) with my constant texting. I suppose it goes with the rambling.

I don't even know why I ramble in the first place… I used to be this shy little girl with not many people around, very serious in her studies, discreet. If I could go back to that period, I sure would be a definite asset to the team.

Mom and Dad are not around that much. They've never been. Which is understandable, with their jobs and all, even if Dad tries to be here as much as possible. And when there was a time when both of them were at home, I had to keep quiet as they were tired. That's why I wasn't talking much. Then why have I changed? Why can't I keep to myself all the information I gather and not blurt it to the whole world? Why can't I keep in check all the emotions I have? What's wrong with me?

I feel…weak. I'm not as strong as Tony when he lost both of his parents, being _au contraire_ a superhero, a genius, a good friend. I'm not as strong as Rhodey who scarcely sees his father, is a brilliant student, a superhero himself and helps when Tony goes solo. I'm not that strong. I will never be. I mean, gosh, I'm trying to improve myself and I can't even do this properly!

But I have to.

I can't escape the fighting training anyway, once I'm in, I can't quit. I'll just have to get better at concealing my bruises.

Hacking is probably the easiest. I can already make easily my way in the principal U.S. governmental agencies, the MI-5 and 6, the DGSE and the FSB (at least my knowledge in foreign languages can be of use here… And maybe that could help with Anton Harchov's projects…). I just have to get a load of caffeine packed for those lessons.

Damn. I'm really tired, but too wired up to sleep. I hate lying to them, or having a fight with them. I mean, if I eventually have to break all friendship with them for their sake, I can always help hacking information to their computers back at the temple. But I really have to do something. No matter what the cost.

Dreading for tomorrow…

* * *

><p><em>MI-5: Military Intelligence, Section 5. Security Service. United Kingdom's counter-intelligence and security agency.<em>

_MI-6: Secret Intelligence Service. Supplies the British Government with foreign intelligence._

_DGSE: Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure (General Directorate for External Security). __France's external intelligence agency._

_FSB: Federal'naya sluzhba bezopasnosti Rossiyskoy Federatsii (Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation). Main domestic security agency of the Russian Federation._


	6. Step Three revisited:Mechanical Bookworm

That's the third night in a row I haven't slept properly. First the soreness, then the hacking lesson, and finally stress. I made a detour via the nearest coffee shop and ordered their biggest and strongest cup of coffee I drank on my way to school. Barely on time, I sit down in class just as the bell rings. Fortunately, neither Tony nor Rhodey take this course.

The caffeine rush helps me get through most of my lessons in the morning. My goal is to focus as much as possible on them to get my mind away from Tony and Rhodey. No easy when I have two periods with them. As soon as the bell rings before my free period, I rush out of the room, speed to the coffee machine, gather my material and sprint to the library. Indeed, during the time I was tossing and turning in my bed last night, I pondered on how to get knowledge in mechanics without any of the boys knowing, not wanting them to hate me a bit more. And I figured I could get it in the first place normal people would go to get reliable information, and probably the last place for Tony to go: the library.

I set my cup and the mechanics books on the study table a bit too loudly, eliciting a stern 'shh' from the lady at the counter. Sorry. Settling myself, I reach for the coffee and grimace while drinking it.

There is one thing you should know about coffee. My parents are forbidding me to drink anything that contains caffeine. Anything. And it's not because they are concerned with my well-being, are afraid of growth problems or anything, no. They are just afraid of the Energizer Bunny…When I was around five, I accidentally went around some cold coffee leftover, and it didn't end well. Those who belittle the power of caffeine know absolutely nothing. I didn't sleep for the twenty-three hours which followed. I know that caffeine is supposed to work, what, a few hours, but I was a little one, and the effect lasted a bit longer. During that whole time, I ran everywhere, jumped everywhere, well, made my parents' life a living hell. Ever since, all access to that substance has been highly prohibited. I can't even get around a glass of cola before I have one of them (if not both of them) jumping on my back and steering me away – far, far away – from the forbidden substance. I'm sure that if I came home with a packet of heroin in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, they would immediately knock the cup off my hand and start a lecture about the dangers of caffeine. But of course, when you are a teenager, you do what your parents specifically forbid you. And I hated it. Sure, the energy rush is pleasant, but the taste… Awful! I tried everything, every combination known to man (or not) and never once was there a cup I could drink without pulling a face. Rebelling is not fun when it works against you, I had never drank another cup ever since.

But now is a very exceptional case. I need something to get me going through the day, and caffeine is the only solution. What I wouldn't do for Team Iron Man…

So, now with the books… Oh joy.

* * *

><p>Lunch period is spent that way, then lessons in the afternoon, and four cups after, I'm back to the library. Mechanics are making more sense now, but that's still light-years from Rhodey's knowledge. Let's not even talk about Tony's.<p>

Somehow, I can understand their fascination with it: with all the calculations, you're able to do anything. A light change, a slight unbalance, and it becomes something totally different. Discoveries of those last centuries are incredible and using one or two of those techniques, combining them, can lead to thousands of systems. And when you combine mechanics with electronics… Possibilities are endless! Fortunately, I'm a bit more advanced in electronics, that's the only Starkian part I actually understand.

Mechanics are written with a lot of rules I have to memorize before being able to decipher the big – huge – blueprints describing the systems.

A whole language to learn…

* * *

><p>"Pepper?"<p>

What is Tony doing in my bedroom? Can't he see I'm sleeping?

"Pepper, wake up."

And now he's shaking my shoulder. Opening my eyes is sooooo difficult. It's the middle of the night, for God's sake!

"Pep, c'mon, wake up."

Fine!

Weirdly enough, my head doesn't rest on my fluffy pillow. It's actually quite hard. Come to think of it, it seems that I'm oddly lying. Rather, I'm not lying at all.

With a start, I sit up with the _cliché_ sheet of paper sticking to my face. Mortified. I'm still at the library.

Tony chuckles, peeling the sheet off my face. My brain, still fuzzy, manages to note this, cataloguing it into the _'Tony is not mad at Pepper'_ folder. I blindly reach towards my cup of coffee when Tony beats me to it and throw it away.

"I needed that."

Who does he think he is? I hate when he does that, take our decisions – Rhodey's and mine – out of our hands. As if he knew better. I needed this. I'm not functional right now.

"Yeah, I can see that."

He's reaching towards my face… What? What is on my face? Oh. Rings under my eyes. Geez, stop being a mother hen, Tony.

"What are you working on?"

Damn, the books! My mind suddenly cleared up, I neatly stack the books up (read: I fumble to erase the traces of my researches) and put them in my bag as quickly as possible.

"It's nothing, just a few things…"

I fumble with the fastening of my bag before lifting my head and finally meeting his eyes. I knew there was a reason I avoided this… There is annoyance in there, mostly. There is anger too, which is expected. When something doesn't go the way Tony Stark wants, he's bound to express it rather childishly despite his advanced I.Q. But… is there hurt too? Oh, gosh, I'm hurting him! I don't want that!

"Tony…"

"Forget it."

Tony's tone when he's about to be the Hulk. No, actually, the Hulk is way nicer. This, this is his pissed off tone, this _'I-don't-care-about-whatever-you're-gonna-tell-me-next'_ tone, his _'you-know-what?-Do-whatever-you-want,-I-don't-care'_ tone. I hurt him bad.

I often forget he doesn't have many people around. And those who are, he tends to be quite protective and possessive over them, and he's trusting them with (almost) everything he has. I don't remember Rhodey keeping any secret from him. And me, well, that's all I've been doing these past days. I don't know if he feels like he's not trustworthy or anything, but it hurts him that I don't share. And hurt becomes anger. I can't blame it, I react exactly the same. Like when he didn't tell us about Whitney. Or his trust in Gene. Why do you think I almost jumped on him?

"Please…"

My attempt angers Tony further, who stomps away under the lady at the counter's disapproving glare. Him away, her glare moves to me. And I know I'm guilty.

Rhodey is right, Tony is concerned. And somewhere along the line, he has a right to be. I'm aware I'm not living the most balanced life right now, but that needs to be done. It's just a transition. And if I tell any of this to either of the guys, they'd stop me in the process. Macho-man or protective, I don't know, but they would. I can't let that happen.

Tony's anger and my will to keep it all secret will probably cost me my best friends. It tears me apart. I love them, I can barely live without them. Ever since I decided on my little program, I don't function properly.

But if it comes to choose between my relationships or helping Iron Man, the choice is already made.

I can do so much good with my hacking skills, even though I know I can go further, just a few more nights of intensive hacking and I could crack any kind of network. I'm just getting started on mechanics, but if I spend a few more hours on it, I'm sure I can understand properly how the armors work and lead them way more efficiently. As for the fighting skills, I'm not giving up until the damsel-in-distress status cannot be applied to me anymore.

Speaking of which, I have to get going.

Step three: in progress.


	7. Fast Forward

Nine days. It's been nine days since I last spoke to Tony.

How did I get there already? Ah. Right. I wanted to 'better' myself. What a failure.

People are giving me constant glances, whispering behind my back. I must be a sight. I barely sleep and I've drunk more coffee than I've ever seen my parents drink between the both of them. Actually, I'd say that coffee is my only source of nourishment right now.

The bruises that are fading are replaced with new ones. The Norse god hasn't reappeared after the first session, and no one is giving me any more tips. It's like, competition. I'm feeling like a goldfish among sharks. My survival rate is not high.

I almost got caught hacking into FSB servers. Hewitt narrowly managed to cover for me and then deemed I was not worthy of his teachings anymore. It was bad. I couldn't sleep that night, thinking so very much about waterboarding and the like. My exhaustion makes me make mistakes, lots of them, and that's lethal when you are dealing with such sensitive material, and such powerful agencies.

I forgot almost everything I've learnt in mechanics… Blueprints are now fuzzier than ever, I can't comprehend a thing. What seemed so clear a few days ago is now the biggest Chinese puzzle I've ever tried to solve. I'm spending hours on them and it doesn't work.

My grades are dropping. I know that because it's been several times the teachers tried to make me talk about them. They threaten to call my father. Father who is currently on a long-term mission and cannot be reached in any way.

I ended up three times at the infirmary. The first time, Rhodey was there when I woke up. The look he gave me was beyond concern. But I shook it off, like I shake off any concern now, and walked away. The two other times, I slipped out of the room before anyone could ask for explanations.

Rhodey is trying to make me talk to Tony, and I hate myself for putting him in that situation. Tony is beyond angry and tries never to cross paths with me, while Rhodey tried to follow me around for a time, before retreating to calling and texting me.

Yeah, I hate myself.

On TV, Iron Man's interventions lack the softness that used to appease people before. He puts himself more at risk, and I often see War Machine steering him back in the right way. Even the reporters are noticing this. I feel like I'm responsible for this.

Rhodey is almost about to steal my prize of the most frequently texting guy. He never stops asking – if not pleading – me to come and talk to them, to him, whatever way I liked, to find a way out of this mess. But I'm so afraid to screw up even more, that if I talk to any of them I'd snap and get everything off my chest. And that they'd feel guilty because they'd think they somehow pushed me into this. I don't want this.

I don't want any of this.

And still, I'm going on, over and over again. I gain endurance with the fighting sessions, but get cracked to broken ribs in the process. None of the moves taught are stored in my memory, it's like even my brain decided to give up on me.

Just as much as I gave up on everyone else.

All steps: failure…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Waterboarding is a special type of torture making the subject feels like he or she is constantly drowning.<strong>


	8. Intervention

I just got a call from Rhodey. Which is weird, as Rhodey doesn't call anymore, he just texts. It's been eleven days I haven't spoken to him. Sixteen with Tony. Nineteen with anyone else.

So I just got a call from him. Tony's in trouble.

He told me he is hurt, very hurt, and that he didn't know if…

God, I can't even think about it.

No, it can_NOT_ be the end of Iron Man, nor Tony Stark. It can't be.

And everything is my damn fault!

How can it have gotten so bad?

And here I am, pacing in my room. I'm such a coward! I can't even go there and try my best to save him! I can't, 'cause I'm afraid! And this mess, this mess we're in because of me, this mess was supposed to help him, not kill him!

I don't know what to do!

I'm half-sobbing and half-pulling my hair out, I can't even think straight! This was not supposed to happen, ever. I'm disgusting myself with my lack of action, of decision. My lack of producing anything worthwhile to help anyone, even myself! This was NOT supposed to happen!

Never ever.

I was supposed to help him.

In a split-second decision, I grab my medical kit (a bit more advanced than a first aid one) and run towards the armory.

* * *

><p>When I arrive, I'm so frantic that my hands are shaking. I'm trying to enter the code to no avail, and Rhodey must have opened the door himself because I'm sure I haven't typed the code right.<p>

I rush into the armory. Rhodey and Tony are standing right in front of me. Alive. Uninjured.

The door snaps shut behind me. I'm too stunned to care.

"What is the meaning of this?"

I hate how my voice sounds monotone and broken, by lack of use. It's scratchy and deep, in the wrong way. I feel suddenly like I've been trapped and that I'm so weak they can break me like a wisp of straw.

"It's an intervention."

Hearing Tony talking to me after that long is weird. In a way, it warms me with the familiarity of hearing that sound directed to me. In another, it chills me how cold it is. An intervention? What the hell is he talking about?

"We know what you're going through."

Rhodey's turn. His voice is much softer than Tony's, velvet. It's almost apologetic in a way, as if he wished he hadn't used that trick to lure me here.

Wait. What did he say? They can't know. They-they mustn't! I-I should go before-before anything else is said, bef-before I spill everything out!

"You're both uninjured. I should go. I have things to-"

Had I been in my right state, I'm not even sure I would have seen Tony moving. One moment he was in front of me, the next he was behind me, between the exit and me.

They're definitely trapping me here.

"We know what you're going through."

Repeating it won't make it any clearer, Rhodes! I'm half-tempted to take them down, hoping that my ineptitude to fight is just an illusion, that I actually learnt something. My mind is so foggy right now… God, I'm thinking about taking down two big healthy guys, not to mention my best friends, while I'm not functioning properly… I'm thinking about what Rhodey said, about what Tony said… I'm thinking about how to get out of this mess… And I'm wondering which mess I'm referring to now. It's like a whirlwind of thoughts making me dizzy, I can't even think straight.

"We just want to know who's the bastard who did that to you."

"Tony!"

Was that supposed to help me understand? 'Cause I have to tell you guys, I'm even more lost than I was before, and that's a real feat, considering I was pretty much lost already. Tony's tone's got a tinge of rage barely hidden, as a tiger about to pounce. Rhodey, obviously, is trying to yank his chain back.

Pause.

"What?"

I couldn't have sounded more out of it. The feeling of weakness has come back, growing tenfold, and everything is so confusing…

Tony approaches me with the antithesis of how his voice sounds. Softly, hesitantly, he's tilting my jaw, not unlike Rhodey did the first time I went to the dojo.

The dojo.

I don't know how, I don't know why, but I suddenly understand the big misunderstanding.

And I laugh.

I barely have time to see their shocked faces before another round of laughter catches me.

I can't stop laughing. Tony loses his grip on me as I sink to the floor, laughing like a mad woman.

The worst is, I don't know why I'm laughing. It's like I was a balloon, and that a needle poked at me, making me release… I don't know what actually.

I laugh so much I cry, and without noticing it, the crying turns into a sobbing fest.

I'm a mess, inside and out. I should have stopped long ago, but now, I feel reality slipping from my grip and it's almost too much to handle, I feel like I'm gonna fall and fall, without anyone or anything stopping me. I'm downright terrified. I have no handle on my emotions whatsoever. I have no handle on anything.

And then I feel pressed against something, and Tony's scent is encompassing me. I am like anchored to him, it's reality. Sure, it's very blurry, because of the tears, but it's still reality. Although… is reality supposed to be this red?

I feel like an idiot. Reality is red because the only thing I have in my sight is Tony's trademark T-shirt. Tony who is rocking me back and forth, like a parent soothing a crying newborn, reminding me of everything that's tangible out there.

Once again, how did I get into this mess?

While my vision is still blurry, my mind is totally clear. What I've done, all those days, the problems that came with it… It was not the right way. I wanted to help, and I hurt instead. Tony, Rhodey, and myself. I planned it all wrong. I should've… I should've done a lot of things. Differently.

But for now, I'm just quite content with being held and getting back on Earth. Even if I can feel the wetness in my neck, where Tony buried his head, which is definitely not mine…


	9. Explanations

**AN: References to "Field Trip", "Iron Man vs. the Crimson Dynamo" and "Armor Wars"**

* * *

><p>After a while, I finally feel like I can control myself. It's weird. It's been so long that I haven't been able to do that, that I've been too tired to try or to care.<p>

But right now, I see where I am, where I was, where I want to go. What I have to do. With whom I want to do it.

'Cause actually, this very point has been my biggest mistake for these past weeks. We're Team Iron Man. Not Team Tony & Rhodey and Team Pepper. We're all in this together and I was too… what? selfish? egocentrical? self-centered? to understand there was no way in any dimension I was able to pull that off alone. I was so busy trying to build this powerful image of myself that I totally forgot about that.

I feel so silly to have broken down like that, in front of them, to have let my nerves stretching to the limit… As I told you, a balloon meeting a needle. You see the picture.

And now I'm devoid of all those parasite thoughts that led me where I am now. The pressure, the secrecy, the burden. I can think clearly.

Rhodey has been given advanced lessons by Tony, to understand everything. And even now, he doesn't understand totally everything. The first time he tried to pilot the armor was a failure, but with practice and our support, he managed just well. Tony had his father to teach him and later challenge him. He hasn't learnt all of this alone. Sure, he's gifted, but he needed to be taught first. I'm so used to them acting, practicing and saving the world everyday that I forgot this fundamental step.

And I just went and did things my way, without once thinking about the consequences on them, if not for the one where they would be proud of me as finally, I wouldn't be a hindrance anymore.

And somehow, that led them to believe that my running away from them was a consequence of someone beating me up, and they got upset – more like enraged – that despite everything they were doing, they couldn't stop it. Actually, there've so many misunderstandings that it's not even funny. And I really don't know how to clear the air up without any more of them appearing.

First, I have to extract myself from Tony's arms, which apparently don't want to let go of me.

"Tony, you can let go now."

"A minute."

The voice is hoarse – both of ours are – and I know exactly why he needs that minute. Both of us need to recompose ourselves. A look at Rhodey tells me that he isn't that far behind either.

I feel his arms finally unwind, and I immediately snatch his jacket lying on the closest chair. One thing should have triggered my 'there's something wrong' sense long ago: I'm freezing. I've _never_ been cold before. And while I must admit I am not wearing much (totally decent, but not adapted to winters, well, we're in spring anyway…), it's never cold at the armory. And it's been days I haven't been able to warm myself up.

It's when we're finally moving that I'm aware there's something very wrong (I know, besides the whole crying, and the tension, and- come on, you've been here since the beginning, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about!). There is no sound at all. There's always sound usually! Tony and Rhodey hammering or welding, videogame playing, me typing, me talking…well, it's not like I have done much of this lately.

Even with both of us now standing up, Tony still stays between the exit and me. It's not like I'm gonna make a run for it, but I can't say I can blame him. I've changed so much in so little time that neither of them can predict my reactions.

"Can I have some hot cocoa?"

The sound is startling in the silence. Rhodey chuckles before going to the machine – and that is why it's wonderful to spend time in your inventor friend's workshop where he almost lives: there is everything for you to eat, drink and sleep (well, almost). Tony follows me to the center of the armory – away from the computer, the works in progress – where I (totally unladylikely) flop down on the floor, and tighten Tony's jacket around me. I feel so cold.

Rhodey comes back with the drinks – and I note that, while I get a hot cocoa, both he and Tony drink super-iced soda…there's definitely something wrong with me – and sits down with us. It feels like a fire camp, where everyone sits around a fire to share stories. Except there is no fire, of course. And that our conversation won't be part of stories we can share in the night, with a joyous ambiance and a guitar melody.

As I am the one who made a mistake, I feel like that's my turn to talk. Time to clear up some misunderstandings.

"What exactly do you think happened to me?"

There. I know, I deflected, but the masochist in me needs to know exactly how much I hurt them, what they were thinking all along, thinking they were powerless. A kind of self-punishment.

Rhodey tries to get Tony's eyes, cast on the floor, before sighing and explaining.

"When you began to talk less, we wondered if everything was alright with you." So they knew since day one. "But then we thought you could be tired or something, we didn't think much about it." And they feel guilty now that they didn't act as soon as they noticed that. I'm a monster. "Then there was the door problem but I thought Tony was exaggerating when he didn't believe you." So he didn't. And I thought he bought it. "Then you didn't want to hang out with us, never at the armory. You were always busy doing something, heck, even Happy was worried you weren't talking with him." Even Happy? How could I have missed that? Of course, after I ditched him during our date, I should've talked to him… I repeat, I'm a monster. "You were withdrawn, we never knew where you were. You looked like you weren't sleeping enough and each time we tried to approach you, you would run away. Then the faintings-" So they were aware there were several of them? "-without explanations, the hiding…"

"The thinning and the bruises."

Tony's voice is less cold than it was before, but you could hear the raw hurt behind it. Hurt I wouldn't confide in him. Hurt that, he who decides to protect people, couldn't reach me long enough to protect me. Hurt that I provoked.

_"The thinning and the bruises." _While I've tried my best to conceal any trace of my activities, it seems they have not entirely been hidden. I'm almost positive no one saw the bruises, I was very careful with that, no one except… No one except them. This is so weird. Some girls are often complaining about boys not noticing anything different about them, but they are definitely wrong. They may not say it, but guys notice things that matter. I've been around them enough – and today's a new proof of that – to be aware of that fact. Hell, I hadn't even known about the thinning! I mean, this is my body, I should have seen it! And yet…

I must be pretty deep in my musings because Rhodey needs to clear his throat before resuming, his voice hesitant.

"We…we tried to know what was going on."

He seems almost ashamed.

"We tracked down your phone."

Oh. That explains a lot. Like, how they never knew about the dojo.

See, my Dad, as you may already know, is an F.B.I. agent. A fairly protective one at that. So obviously, phone tracking is something quite ordinary for him, and so is tracking _me_. I, liking my independence without worrying my Dad, took lessons in Phone Tracking 101 and switched my cell phone A to a new one B. Different SIM card and hardware, calls and texts transferred to cell phone B, my Dad had absolutely no reason to guess there had been deception. Cell phone B is the one I use when I really don't want anyone to know where I am (most definitely doing some private investigation of mine) while leaving cell phone A at home or someplace my Dad would deem safe, so that he wouldn't worry about my errands. But I learnt with time that being with Team Iron Man, you need to be traceable as often as possible (and given my propensity to be in danger, I really had to accept that), that's why I've only been using cell phone A ever since. But one particular night, after a heavy session at the dojo, I fell on cell phone A, giving me only the use of cell phone B after that. Hence why they never knew…

Had I not broken my cell phone that night, had they found out where I was going…all of this could have been over way earlier…

"And we couldn't find anything."

Still that ashamed tone. I want so much to tell him I don't mind, that it's okay, but I really need to hear the end of their story. I need to do penance.

Tony is clenching fists.

"We've tried to find out who was with you long enough to do this to you…"

"…while I was doing this to myself."

Both look at me with shocked eyes. I can't say I can blame them.

And I begin to tell them. To tell them about how I felt like I wasn't fitting anymore, how I felt like I bailed on them that one time with Happy. The plan I had to be better, to be an asset to Team Iron Man, instead of the millstone around their necks. The nights at the dojo, or in front of my computer. Hiding everything so that they couldn't stop me, couldn't laugh at my pathetic efforts to be like them. How I was almost caught by the FSB, and have had nightmares about it ever since. How it hurts to fight, but feels like it is the only thing I can do. How I got frustrated with mechanics, wishing one of them could be there to help me. How I couldn't talk about it to anyone. How I couldn't talk at all. How everyone's always told me I was too chatty, and how I wanted to be less of that. How alone I felt. How torn I was seeing them being away from me, while wanting the best for them. How sorry I am because I hurt them so much, and that I probably won't ever be able to forgive myself for everything I put them through.

I wasn't aware I was crying until Tony wiped the tears away. I'm surprised. I didn't feel the tears coming. Unlike right after entering the armory, I'm just crying, not sobbing, not wailing, just that. Crying. My voice doesn't break. I don't allow myself to. I don't deserve to be soothed as I am the one who hurt them. Who hurt them badly. The tears are like the words I held back all those nineteen days, tumbling one by one out of me, without any decorum.

I just have to go through my speech with everything I've done, how unfair I've been to them. They deserve to know.

"And we were worried that if you went evil with the skills you already possessed, we'd be in trouble; if you had actually managed to go through with your plan, we'd have been doomed."

Count on Rhodey to say the perfect words when needed.

"The field trip wasn't exactly piece of cake…"

"Pepper, your mission was to get us in Stark International in less than twenty-four hours, which you did with remarkable, if not scary (remind me again how you got all of the parents' signatures?) efficiency. It's Tony who screwed up."

"Hey, I wasn't supposed to know I would be escorted out as soon as we arrived!"

"But you still messed up with the control panel…"

"But I had a good reason for that!"

And here they are, bantering as if nothing had just happened. Unbelievable. I envy their ability to talk things out and forget all about them in the next moment. That's a guy thing. Most of the time, girls get grudges that tend to last a lifetime, while guys talk (or fight) it out and then everything's okay. That's a gift. I wish I had it. Because, personally, I don't feel a lot better.

"Earth to Pepper!"

Tony's fingers are snapping before my eyes. I spaced out. Again. I never space out.

"You're still with us?"

They both sport concerned eyes. Besides hurt and anger, concern is probably the most frequent expression I've seen on their faces this past week. How can I affect them that much?

Rhodey brings a blanket over. I didn't notice him getting up, I really must be out of it. When he places it on top of Tony's jacket, that I'm still wearing, I notice I'm shivering. Great. That's a good image for a wannabe superheroine.

Rhodey talks. He talks about the field trip a bit more, what I did and how they couldn't have retrieved the armor without it – while reminding me of the hazardous material station, not my finest hour. Then Tony takes over talking about the discovery of Shockwave's and Force's identities, through F.B.I. databases research and voice demodulator – he blushes a bit at that part, and I have to rack my brain to find out why (and when I do, I'm sure I blush too. What? It was just a few words spoken like that, it didn't mean anything!) – then moves on Vanko's case (and I still can't understand to that day how Mrs. Vanko could have believed me when I told her I was with the C.I.A.) and how I probably saved his life that day. And Rhodey states that he alone couldn't keep Tony in line by himself, he needed help. Tony seems outraged by this. And they go on, recounting our feats, our exploits, not as one, but as a team, as _our_ team, team which wouldn't exist with anyone of us missing. Yes, there have been times we've made bad decisions. There were times when someone (or _someones_) needed to be rescued, but it happened to all of us. But we've been through all kinds of situations, and fared not that badly in the end. We're dealing with Rhodey's mother hen attitude by behaving (a bit) better. We're dealing with Tony's revengeful side by talking him down. And they're dealing with my rambling side by filtering the important stuff from the rest. Each of us has strong points as many as weak ones. And one of us cannot single-handedly hold all of the strong ones.

Both of them reminisce about everything we've been through so far, good times, bad times. They laugh, they get serious, while I (figuratively) stand on the sidelines. And that's the last thing I remember.


	10. Final report

**AN: I own as much Full Metal Panic! as I own Iron Man: Armored Adventures. Meaning I don't.**

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><p>I actually fell asleep that night, drowned by their voices. The lack of sleep added to everything else that had happened caught up with me. The guys got me back home (theirs) and improvised a sleepover. I woke up the morning after – more like the <em>afternoon<em> after – after a solid fourteen-hour dreamless sleep. It was heaven. Fortunately, we had the whole weekend ahead of us, which meant no school, no fighting session and no computer – the guys threatened to tie me to a chair if I approached within ten feet of any kind of electronics. Best of all, there hadn't been any Iron Man alert, and we spent the whole weekend like (almost) normal teenagers.

The following Monday, I had to get my school life back on track. I spent a lot of time studying with Rhodey and Tony to catch up on what I had missed. I stopped caffeine altogether (which wasn't that hard, ew! – but the after effects of stopping so abruptly the consumption of this psychoactive drug were kinda hard to deal with at first) and tried to eat normally again (a bit difficult at first, considering the past days, but neither Tony nor Rhodey were letting me out of their sights). I got my life back.

It took some time for me to wear anything that wasn't long-sleeved, both because of the bruises and the coldness. Stopping caffeine didn't help with latter, and that hadn't served to ease the boys' concern about me. But now, that's ok, I can go through the day with less than sweats without much discomfort (I admit, I crank up the heat at maximum once I am home, but the guys don't need to know that…). I'll take some time to go back to my blissful state of not feeling cold ever (or on very rare instances, I admit).

Believe it or not, I went back to the dojo. I swear, I wasn't in a masochist mood or anything, I just… wanted to cut all ties I guess. Erase my step one. Anyway, I went back there and who did I meet? That's right, my Norse god! Upon hearing I was quitting – more like found out (finally) that this level wasn't mine – he told me he was instructor in the same discipline… in beginners! I transferred right away.

I'm not trying to be a super kickass, but defending myself, even outside the Iron Man mumbo jumbo, is quite important when you live in a city as big as New York City, N.Y. So I'm taking these lessons with way much more pleasure than the first ones. A lot less painfully too. And Rhodey and Tony were able to come once, to make sure I wasn't playing idiot by overexerting myself. Again. Actually, I've been practicing on them too. And I'm not half-proud to say I'm kicking their asses. Sure, they play superhero with their armors and all, but once they're out, _I_'m the boss.

Hum. Getting ahead of myself a bit, here.

The truth is, it's nice to see that for once, I'm better than them at something. I mean, it's not a competition of course, but at least I don't feel helpless anymore. I wouldn't be able to fend off villains such as Whiplash or any ninja at Gene's command, but I still can defend myself against Mr. Regular Guy wanting to mess with me. And that, that's really liberating.

I crossed (electronic) paths with Hewitt again, and he seemed relieved my slip-ups were not about to happen ever again (well, not that often at least). He taught me a few escape techniques (just in case) and we went back to talking mostly as Kazhloar and RoyalBlueElf defending with our (regenerated by ivy potions) lives our King and Queen of Kendahoar (and we're good at it. If not the bests. Just saying).

I gave up on ever trying to reach Rhodey's level in mechanics (I had already deemed impossible to reach Tony's, let's be serious). I'm letting the mecha otakus playing with their toys while I can concentrate more on electronics and hacking. Not to brag, but I'm getting pretty good at that. I don't have to steal my dad's accesses anymore and I can go even deeper than his credentials let him, it's like a new world opened up to me. Pepper Potts is in the place!

And no, 'mecha' doesn't refer in any way to a famous to a super kickass manga with that great seventeen-year-old soldier boy who doesn't know a thing about socialization and blows up everything everytime he thinks there is a threat on his girl and is so badass and with the coolest submarine and the most awesome friends and…

Hum. Like I was saying, not referring to this at all.

(Love you Sousuke!)

As you can see now, I haven't forgotten about rambling. It's a part of me and I won't change it, as long as it isn't life-threatening. And anyway, the guys get freaked out if I'm not sprouting a thousand words a minute, I might as well go on. Plus I love rambling, and I really – _really_ – don't know how to filter important from trivial. And there's nothing wrong with adding a bit of extra knowledge here and there. And there. And there.

I'm back to talking with Happy. The poor lad had no idea what had happened, and I wasn't about to explain it to him. We've agreed that us dating was maybe a bit too much. Personally, I need more time to come to terms with all of what happened, and more importantly why it had happened now, to sort my life out. So we're friends, and that's all that matters.

Some say, after a particular grueling experience, that the first day after is _the first day of the rest of their lives_. As if it is absolutely life-changing, a nine-magnitude shake up influencing like no other event their lives and what will follow. I won't go that far. For one thing, we can't say the event lasted that long. Then, it didn't exactly change my life. It just helped me understand one or two important points and my place among my peers, probably asking themselves the same questions I had (but hopefully not related to Iron Man!). A sort of… reprioritization. But I'm still the good ol' Pepper. If there's one thing I learnt from the past weeks, is that you can't change who you are, no matter how hard you try to. All you can do is improve yourself, within limits, but never drastically change. It always comes with time.

I want to warn you, this is not a happily ever after kinda end. I'm still feeling often out of phase with Tony and Rhodey whom I repeatedly see facing danger without my being able to do anything else but watching, just as much as neither Tony nor Rhodey trust me fully not to screw up again. The first few days after the breakdown, they were constantly hovering. I had to tell them to back off a bit, but they still don't let me much out of their sight. I managed to get the exact contrary of what I wanted: prove myself to be self-efficient and not needing constant supervision. They are real father hens* (what? Why 'hen' must always be a mother, huh? Or maybe is it 'father rooster' then?). I'm probably as self-conscious as I was before, just more mature when it comes to act on it. Just like Tony is as impulsive as he's ever been, and Rhodey as…well, nothing bad can actually be said about Rhodey. He's a doll, putting up with Tony's and mine strong characters, if not temper tantrums. He's probably the sanest out of us three and grounds us, keeps us in check. Actually, we're all keeping each other in check. That's the magic behind the number three: if one of us is overdoing it, we have not one but two people on the lookout to stop everything and beat some sense into the one who messes up.

All steps: rethought with addition of new operatives.

Actually, I don't need that plan anymore…

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><p><strong>*As I'm not a native English speaker, I have no idea whether "father hen" is common in English. In French, you'll find both "maman poule" and "papa poule ("mother hen" and "daddy hen") to describe respectively a woman or a man with such overprotective behavior.<strong>

**AN: And that's all, folks! I would like to thank everyone who took time to read, alert or review this story, particularly XxThe Penny TreasurexX who never missed reviewing a chapter, and a Swiss friend of mine with whom I spent words and words commenting on the feelings I wanted to convey from this or that chapter despite her busy schedule with uni.**

**I really had much fun trying to write this story from Pepper's POV, even if the story led me away from what I originally wanted to write. Hope you liked it as well.**


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